


Control

by just_kiss_already



Series: Spiraling [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brief vague mentions of past violence, M/M, Shame, Topping from the Bottom, a tiny bit of bdsm, brief vague mentions of non-con, like slapping and hair pulling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 19:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3781843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_kiss_already/pseuds/just_kiss_already
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt has a hard time accepting his need to be hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Building on my previous story Cage Around the Sun. If you don't want to read it--it's pretty violent--here's a summary. Wesley kidnapped Matt, tortured him, was ordered to kill him. The Wesley of my story has a thing for knives, for Matt's eyes, and for begging. Matt ended up playing along, hoping for a chance to escape, though at that point he was starting to enjoy it. He lied to the police and Foggy about what happened out of shame. Meanwhile, Foggy accidentally hurt him and Matt realized he kind of likes it. And here we are!
> 
> I beta my own things so please let me know if there are any mistakes.

Wesley grabs Matt's hair from behind, yanking his head back. "I have to finish the job," he announces, expressionless, as he puts one of his knives against Matt's throat and begins to saw. 

Screaming, Matt jerks awake, his entire body a minefield of agony. Every wound, even the cuts that now are almost fully healed, they're all alive and pulsing as if fresh. 

Footsteps. Matt's body curls up tighter in the fetal position in his bed, but then he smells Foggy, hears the familiar sound of his distinct heartbeat, and allows himself to relax a little. 

"Matty!" Foggy pants as he runs into the bedroom. "Jesus, Matty, you okay?!" He hurries to the side of the bed and for the briefest of seconds hesitates before placing a ginger hand on Matt's back. He's afraid of hurting him, Matt can hear the way he swallows nervously. 

Matt's voice is raw, he's been doing a lot of yelling in his sleep since all he sees is Wesley. "I'm okay," he croaks. "Just another dream."

Foggy has been at Matt's place for two days now, sacking out on the couch at night and fussing over him like a little broody hen during the day. It's charming and comforting but somehow leaves Matt hollow.

The hand on his back starts rubbing in little circles. "What can I do for you?" Foggy asks, his voice low. 

The generous kindness has been constant, Foggy has been a saint, but here, now, in the darkest part of the night, when the world holds it's breath and danger lurks everywhere, that kindness is overwhelming. Matt struggles to hold it together but a choked gasp escapes.

"Oh, Matty," Foggy murmurs.

The bed dips and creaks, and then Matt is encircled in the gentle warmth of his friend. Foggy curls up around Matt, the big spoon so to speak. His arm wraps around him and starts rubbing his chest while a low and tuneless hum starts.

Despite the tears in the corners of his eyes, Matt barks a sad little laugh. "Foggy, you're a terrible singer. What are you even humming?"

Foggy laughs quietly. "I started with Black Sabbath but that didn't seem right, so I tried to switch-"

"Don't stop," Matt whispers suddenly before turning his head into his pillow, embarrassed. The hand on his chest stops briefly before both the rubbing and humming resume.

Drowsy, Matt opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. He needs to tell Foggy at least some of the truth, needs to warn him; Wesley knows who they are, where they live, will undoubtedly come after them. He threatened Foggy's life, threatened to kill him just to torture Matt. "Foggy-" he starts, but he just can't go on. He... He doesn't want to think about it. 

Foggy goes up on his elbow, leaning over Matt to look at his face. "What's up, man?"

The words that come out startle Matt. "I'm really scared." Foggy shifts, gets even closer, leans down until his chest is resting on Matt's upper arm, a heavy and welcome weight. The words come spilling out now. "It wasn't junkies, it was... Someone... He threatened you, Foggy, you can't go home because he could be waiting for you."

"Wait, what?" Foggy's voice remains low, soothing, but his heartbeat speeds up against Matt's arm.

"He was supposed to kill me, I fought him off and escaped. Promise me you won't go home alone." Matt's face contorts with a sob held back. "Promise me."

"Yeah, I promise, man, but why didn't you tell this to the police?! Who was it? Did you recognise his voice?"

A pause. Matt plays it off as exhaustion, letting his eyes close, but really he's hesitating and he knows it. "... I didn't recognise him," he lies.

Before Foggy can speak, Matt turns his face deeper into the pillow, rolling over and away from his friend. Just talking this briefly about his experience, dredging up memories of Wesley, has him breathing hard, pulse racing, and in the darkest parts of his heart he knows it's not just from fear.

Wesley's knives, but also his hands. Both, all over him. His mouth, licking and biting. 

"Matt," Foggy murmurs, "Matty. It's okay. We'll figure this out." He starts rubbing Matt's back, little circles, then goes higher and starts to play with Matt's disheveled hair, running his fingers through it. A shiver runs down his spine.

"... Pull," Matt whispers, his voice choked with so many conflicting emotions, muffled by the pillow. 

The hand in his hair pauses, confused. "What?"

Matt turns his head slightly, almost says something different, but his heart is pounding, he can hear Foggy's racing, and the memories of endless pain and sex are crashing against the barrier he erected in his mind like a tidal wave. "Pull, I need you to... Please, Foggy."

The kind and loving hand in his hair makes a fist and there's a small yank.

"L-like that?" Foggy whispers, confused. 

"Harder."

The sharp tug is not quite painful but still a good start. Matt licks his lips and can feel the start of an erection pressing into the mattress.

"Foggy," Matt whispers, not trusting his voice. "Please."

Another yank and this time it hurts, and Matt lets a tiny smile curl the corner of his lips briefly. It's as if each pull is unravelling a knot he didn't know was in his heart.

Matt rolls onto his back, closer to his friend. He doesn't care if he's half-hard, he doesn't care about anything. He licks his lips again and reaches out. His hands bump into Foggy's chest and it's perfect, he starts to caress the flesh through the thin tshirt.

Foggy's heartbeat speeds up even more, he's starting to pant, and Matt subtly moves his leg so that he can feel his friend's own growing arousal. 

"Oh my god," Foggy whispers. "What are you doing!"

Matt opens his mouth, the lips slack and soft, hoping Foggy takes the bait but he doesn't. "Please," Matt whispers, and memories of begging Wesley echo through his mind, turning him on more. "I need this."

Foggy pants once, twice, and he's now hard against Matt's thigh. He leans down and his lips brush against Matt's.

"Harder," Matt whispers into that mouth, and then they're kissing. A hard, real kiss, tongues hesitantly exploring, all wet and heat. But God help him it's not enough.

He needs the pain. 

When the kiss breaks, Foggy gasping for air, Matt speaks up. "I need you to hurt me," he murmurs. The sound of a sharp inhalation, Matt knows his friend is going to refuse, so he cuts him off. "I need it right now, I know you won't hurt me too badly. Foggy I need it. Bad." An edge of a whine enters his voice. "I need you." He's gotten so good at begging. 

The slap that comes is entirely unexpected.

They both stop, Foggy is audibly horrified, but then Matt moans before the other man can speak. 

"More," Matt begs shamelessly. "Please, more, Foggy."

"Ohhh my god this is so fucked up," Foggy hisses. He rises and leans over Matt, his arm is right next to his head, and Matt can hear the hiss of air as Foggy pulls his other arm back. The slap is hard, really hard, it sends electricity through Matt's body and his eyes water. He opens them, hearing the whisper of a command from someone else entirely. Eyes open.

Matt moves his hand that's closest to Foggy, exploring until he can feel his hard-on through his basketball shorts. Foggy groans and Matt can hear so many emotions in that sound, desire and shame and confusion. A tiny shard of irritation pierces Matt, a splinter to ruin this moment. Wesley had no hesitation, no shame. No confusion. He knew precisely what he wanted to do. 

He pushes the feeling away. This is nice. With Foggy, whom he's loved in his own way since college. This is like being a kid again.

Inhaling deeply, smelling Foggy, his arousal on the air heavy, then shimmies down the bed on his back. Rolling onto his side, propping himself up, he pushes Foggy's shorts and boxers down and takes his dick out. Foggy makes a strangled noise above him. It's one thing to rub each other through their clothes, to kiss even, but this has gone beyond the border into the land of no return.

"T- take off your shirt," Foggy whispers. Why is he so insistent on whispering, Matt wonders. But he complies. Finally, a command, freely given and not prompted. Matt is good at following orders now. 

Matt hurries to pull his tshirt off, throwing it on the floor. He reaches out and slides his hands until they're on Foggy's dick; he slides them up and down, getting familiar with the feel of it, memorizing it. Above him Foggy is making the most interesting sounds, trying to be quiet and failing.

Leaning closer, he sticks his tongue out and runs it up the shaft, tasting him. He wraps his lips over the head and licks in circles. Wesley had liked when he'd done that. Apparently Foggy does too.

Matt pushes Foggy flat on his back and shifts until he's on his knees, between the other man's legs. He begins to suck him in earnest, hands wrapped around the base of Foggy's dick as he bobs up and down over it. He hollows his mouth to create an actual sucking sensation.

"Holy shit, Matty," Foggy moans. "Stop, I'm already gonna..." The word is implied, poor sweet Foggy can't even bring himself to say it. And Matt doesn't stop. He wants it. "Oh my god, oh my god, you're so gorgeous, Matt, oh-"

Foggy cums, his body stiffening and thrusting, groaning, and Matt swallows because Wesley had liked it when he did.

When Foggy finally relaxes, muscles loosening, body and dick going limp, Matt crawls up and curls against his friend's side, resting his head on his chest. His fear and shame are a long way away now. They might return, but right now it doesn't matter. 

"Matt, you-"

"Later," Matt interrupts. Because he wants something very specific and it's going to take a lot of coaxing to get Foggy to agree. For right now, this is enough, this is perfect.


End file.
